


Couch Time

by thoopsy



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I did edit it don't get me wrong, I wrote this while having an anxiety attack! so that may or may not come through?, No beta we die like mne, there's one mention of alcohol if that's an issue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:26:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24265057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoopsy/pseuds/thoopsy
Summary: Della's having a rough time on Earth, so she calls up one of her favorite cousins to help out!This is a fun little oneshot I made to make my friend yell at me, and to put more Cousins Content out into the world. Enjoy!
Relationships: Della Duck & Gladstone Gander, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 67





	Couch Time

**Author's Note:**

> This one is for my friend Ren, who roleplays with me sometimes! Also for me, to try and vent my emotions while having a panic attack. 
> 
> Sometimes I refer to Della's long head-feathers as hair, and that's just for simplicity. She doesn't have any secret hair laying around, she is a duck.

Della woke up in her own bed, a week after the apocalypse, crying. Thoughts like, _"Is it the apocalypse if it's stopped with the world intact?"_ and _"Should I get a therapist?"_ would come later.

She was observant. She knew that she was in her bed in the Mansion. It's not like she slept much when she was There, and when she did it was in a hammock. This was clearly a mattress. That didn't help, though.

During the day, things were fine. She could help with cleanup, and and look up at the sky the same color as all of her favorite shirts and dresses. The same color her favorite scarf _used_ to be before it'd gotten dirty and washed maybe dozens of times.

There were people, and light. Laughter. She was never alone with the huge extended web of family friends she was finding herself meeting.

It wasn't day right **now** , though. It was night, and the dream she'd just come from had felt so real.

There was no one else here.

She had her own room in the Mansion. She used to share one with Donald, but she'd wanted her own when she'd hit her teen years. Right now, she felt stupid for making that decision.

The darkness was crushing. Her alarm clock was a cheap old analog one, it didn't glow in the dark to help reassure her.

Della couldn't breathe, she was losing it. She'd been back on Earth for _Weeks,_ she'd had air to breathe all this time, why did right now _not_ chewing feel like it was killing her. No matter how fast and hard she breathed, it felt like she wouldn't get enough.

Because she couldn't see, it felt like forever before she pulled herself together enough to think, just for a moment.

She made herself stand up, this reaction didn't make any _sense._ She'd spent years, more than she wanted to think about, in a dark room feeling crushed. She was a smart woman. Ducks don't back down.

Nothing had changed about who she was now that she was on Earth. She could still stand up, _even though the gravity was crushing her and reminding her she didn't belong anymore_ , and she could go out in the hall, and she could get herself taken care of.

The mansion's light switches were all hidden behind things, or unnecessarily high up, or locked behind ancient puzzles. It was so no one went around wasting electricity, and it meant she'd probably get herself stabbed before she managed to turn a hall light on.

Even with her body not obeying her, Della didn't trip over any end tables or fancy cursed vases. That was probably a good thing, this momentum she had was fragile. As soon as she stopped she'd probably just live there, forever.

The kitchen was still where it was supposed to be, it hadn't went and moved, and just like she thought. There was a list on the fridge, illuminated by. Earth's least favorite satellite.

It wasn't the grocery list, Beakley kept that safe and where it couldn't be tampered with. This was the "emergency numbers" list, which Donald _insisted_ having just in case one of the kids needed an adult at any given time. And happened to be in the kitchen.

She only knew it was Donald who'd insisted because, since she'd been back, Scrooge had complained about how tacky it was, twice.

Della scanned the names next to the numbers frantically, inefficient because of shaking hands and the low light.

The one that was final and lowest on the list was exactly who she needed right now.

That same old kitchen phone from the 60s was still in here, ever since before she was born. She tried to take it slow so she wouldn't dial the wrong person, and it was dialing longer than it should. Probably. Right?

She hadn't made a phone call in so long.

He picked up. She could tell because of how loud it was in the background, which should comfort her. Something she could hear over the static in her ears. _"Cousin Gladstone please come visit."_

It came out as a harsh whisper, he wouldn't be able to hear her, she had to say it again. So she repeated it a little louder, or a lot louder, "Cousin Gl **adstone PLEASE C-** "

"I'm on my way."

He'd heard her, a cry for help had been answered, and. It made up for the silence that was coming out of the phone, for a couple moments. Then she started wishing that dial tones weren't just a movie creation, so she'd have something concrete to listen to.

Who could know how long it was until he showed up? She could barely think, keeping track of time was beyond her.

It felt like it was sudden when he put his hands on her shoulder. She was slumped against the counter. "I can't carry you. Can you move?"

Later she'd realize she must've nodded, even without her knowing she'd told her body to, and Gladstone had replaced the phone in her hand with his own hand, and his other arm was around her shoulder, and she was standing.

They trudged through the living room. Even though Glastone didn't know the house as well as she did, they didn't trip over any ornate rugs. Luck could be so helpful.

He got her sitting on the old sofa in the family room that actually had comfortable furniture, off limits to guests because it wasn't pretty. Also because the lamp worked without anything extra. There was a quiet click as Gladstone turned on the lamp, the one she'd gotten blue paint on once and they'd had to pretend it was intentional.

With the light on, she could see the glitter clinging to his feathers. It was very colorful, and as Cousin Gladstone sat down beside her. The dim light from the floor lamp hit different bits and reflected off them. It hurt a little to look at. She kept looking anyway.

Once he was settled on the sofa, he opened his arms open in an offering. She leaned over into his hug. Or slumped down on top of him.

"It's been awhile." She grimaced. That was the problem, wasn't it. Instead of going into anything serious, he continued with, "I've discovered some very interesting places this week."

Despite the nonchalance of his tone, Gladstone had one arm wrapped securely around her shoulders, grounding her. "Saved a nightclub from closing. Remember when we tried to sneak into one, when we were still just teens?"

She remembered. It had just been the two of them. Donald wouldn't have went along with their plan. He continued, "Fethry looked so disappointed when we told him, remember? That it was just a place with loud music and beverages."

"Oh. Ick." She murmured tiredly, without any of the proper tone. It didn't sound anything like Fethry, but it was exactly what he said when they told him.

He laughed quietly. Gladstone's other hand started gently combing through the ends of her hair-feathers, or maybe he'd been doing it all along and she'd just noticed. "All of that beautiful storytelling, all that investigative research, and that was all he had to say."

"About the nightclub, though. It's very nice. I found the deed to the whole place, so they're giving me free drinks for life. I was just sampling their best cocktails, virgin of course." Everyone knew Gladstone didn't drink, just like everyone knew Fethry didn't like anything other than water. "The bartender knows how to mix, Dell. And the ambiance! Mwah!"

His hand was still working gently on untangling the end of her hair, but she could imagine the chef's kiss. "You'll love it, I swear."

Gladstone was probably right about that. She had always been a fan of trying out new flavors. New things in general, but flavors were very concrete. You could get them again and again, unlike the rush of completing a puzzle or overcoming a trap. You could jump over the same spike pit again, but would it be as good? Definitely not.

There was a lull in the conversation. Gladstone squeezed her shoulder.

"Remember when we were kids, and you were growing your hair out for the first time?" It was rhetorical, so she didn't answer. She just closed her eyes and focused on the gentle tug on her head-feathers, and the great pressure around her shoulders. "You hid in that bush when we were playing hide-and-go-seek, first week of the first summer Scrooge had all four of us. I'll hand it to ya, you won."

She could hear the smile in Gladstone's voice, "Duckworth had to get the loppers out."

"I didn't know it was thorny." Della insisted, barely louder than a mumble. It was an excuse she'd been parroting every time it'd been mentioned, ever since.

"Your hair sure knew it was." Gladstone's fingers glided all the way through a section of her hair, and even though it wasn't helping with the detangling anymore, he repeated the motion a couple more times. "I still think Scrooge made me help because I laughed the hardest. I don't regret that part though, sitting on the bathroom floor with you, trying to comb your feathers for hours on end made me like you more."

She snorted.

"I mean it! You hated me before that, and you were always making fun of my shirts." She still stood by that part. Kids should wear clothes that can get dirty. "I just thought you were rude and nothing else. Then you were crying, and telling me about how much your hair meant to you. I realized you weren't so tough."

Yeah. Della wasn't tough, even if she was always pretending to be. Someone tough wouldn't have had to call their cousin away from a night of having fun to come give her a hug.

"Hey, hey. It's okay, I just wanted you to know. When I was alone, I really treasured that memory." It took her a moment to realize she'd tensed her shoulders up. Of course, he wouldn't have been alone if she hadn't've made her _stupid dumb stupid decision._ Scrooge wouldn't have stopped Game Night, and Bi-Monthly Cousins Dinner, and stopped talking to everyone, if she'd just been _rational for **one moment of her life.**_

"Della, listen. You're not allowed to think bad thoughts right now. I have news about Fethry." Her eyes snapped open, and she realized she'd been tearing up. "Turn your head, too, I need to get to the back."

She did, trying not to think about how she was gonna get his expensive shirt wet, or how her face was gonna be irreparably covered in glitter for a couple days. "Alright, so I was visiting Fethry the other day. He recently moved into a new apartment, and he doesn't have any roommates. Whenever _I_ move anywhere, I get swamped by housewarming food, I figured I should help him with that."

Gladstone said it so nonchalantly, if she didn't know him she'd almost believe he meant it. She still didn't get why he pretended he didn't care about Cousin Fethry.

"His place has a nice view, surprisingly stylish. Big windows. Aloe plant for if he burns himself." Della mentally corrected if to when. "He has too many posters, it ruins his bedroom's decor. The one thing that _really_ stood out was what was in his pantry."

"Prepare yourself. It surprised me so much I nearly lifted an eyebrow." She would've rolled her eyes if they were looking at each other, "On the top shelf, next to an alarming amount of dried rice, was a 16 oz McDucktor Pepper bottle."

"What!" She sat up suddenly, yanking a tangle of feathers on Gladstone's finger. "OW, okay ow." Della rubbed her head, and looked over at her cousin.

He was grinning, "I had a similar reaction. I pulled it down, and wouldn't you know it, it was the very same one. He kept our gag gift, Dearest Dell."

Color her stunned. She couldn't think about negative emotions with _this_ happening. Talk about news!

Gladstone wouldn't mention it to her, but she was actually smiling. "Okay, so I know it's the same one for a couple reasons. One, Fethry would never buy McDucktor Pepper. He dislikes beverages, and he **hates** fizz."

She nodded. One time they'd tricked him into drinking sparkling water and he'd stopped talking to them for two days.

"Number two, the label is that old kind. Right from when Uncle Scrooge bought the brand and changed the name, but before they could design a label that actually looked good. It's still the kind with a basic cartoon of his head and torso, giving a thumbs up." Della had forgotten about that, but man it sure had been sloppy graphic design.

"Number three, the bottle was doing that thing where all the air slowly escaped over the years so it's all." He made a motion with his hands of squishing something between them, "Like modern art or something."

"The expiration date?" She asked, and her hands went to his shoulders. "We worked so hard for that date."

Gladstone grinned, "You better believe it. It's Fethry's birthday printed on the label. But, of course, since you interrupted, you don't want to hear the last two things."

"Don't play with me, you know I do!" Della said, looking Gladstone dead in the eyes. 

He laughed, and she let go of her death grip on his shoulders to let him lean back. "Okay, okay, so. Numbers five and six, it still has the ribbons on it, practically drowning in them, and the note we made Donald write for us attached." 

She almost couldn't believe it. "Is the liquid level still the same? How about the weight?" The whole idea of their gift, their wonderful prank, still being set up to happen was fantastic.

"Oh you better believe it's still just as full, and just as heavy." He was the perfect image of relaxed lounging, like he didn't care, but she could tell that he was just as excited. The grin ruined the nonchalance.

They'd spent hours getting a bottle, painting the bottom brown on the inside, waterproofing the paint job.

Shoving small cylinders of gold into it, which would be hidden by the paint at the bottom, and big enough not to get swallowed without someone noticing.

Filling the rest with fresh McDucktor Pepper, figuring out how to use the big machines that stamped on the best by date and that sealed the bottle like new. Curling ribbon for the top.

Convincing Donald to write a message on the card, _"We're giving you gold! Only if you drink this! - Gladstone and Della"_. She'd drawn in a smiley face!

Everything was still set up. They could still go over there and try and convince him to drink it. It was like nothing had changed. 

Maybe she hadn't stopped crying, or maybe it was just easier to cry after you already had, but Della started tearing up. Happy tears this time. "We've _gotta_ bring it up next time we visit. 

"Oh, you bet. I'm sure I could think of a reason to video tape our visit, for his reaction." She was laughing now, in pure delight. Finally, payoff! When they'd first set everything up, they'd been hoping he'd drink it then, or that he'd send them a letter after he did. Seeing it in person, after all this buildup? It'd be one of the best moments of her life, she was sure. "Oh, please!"

" _Glad_ that's settled! Now come back here, I need to finish your hair."

Della laid back against him again, still giggling, and turned her head to the other side. If her face was gonna be covered in club-glitter, it might as well be her whole face. "...I've missed you."

"I've missed you too." He said with a sigh, "It was a long ten years, but you're here again now. I'm lucky enough to have you back, so that's what I've been focusing on. You get it?"

Very much unlike herself, she thought before she spoke. "I think I do? My room is so dark, when I woke up, I just. Lost it, ya dig?"

"I _never_ dig." She felt his head at the top of her head, he'd finished another section. "We could get you a lava lamp again."

She blinked, "Wait do they still make them?" Donald broke theirs as a kid, and it was so old at the time. Now she had her own room, so she didn't have to worry about his klutzy nature...

"Absolutely! They're very popular with kids, last time I checked. I think Dewey's been asking for one for, hm." Gladstone paused as if to think, "Since he could talk. Donald always objected to glass objects in the boat. It made him want it more."

For a split second, she felt sad that she didn't know that about Dewey. Then she reminded herself that she got to know it now. Also she'd just calmed down, no spiraling again.

"Are you... available tomorrow? Huey has a camping trip with his troupe, and Louie's attending a seminar with Uncle Scrooge. The three of us could go shopping for them, wherever they come from." Della sat herself back up, to gauge Gladstone's response.

The hand he'd been using to comb was on his chin now, and he said, "Hm."

She held her own hands up in front of him, pleading, "I don't know the cost of things anymore! There's been a _lot_ of inflation, apparently!"

"Well, in _that_ case..." He smirked, "Why not?"

"THANK YOU!" She glomped him, it'd been awhile and she didn't know if that was a word anymore but it was what she did, "You're my favorite goose!"

"I'm glad you've ranked me so highly, among all of the geese you know. Now." He gave her the kind of squeeze that says that the hug is over, "Let's get you to bed. Still have a trundle for me to crash on?"

"You know it! Might need to change the sheets, though?"

They made their way back to Della's room, shoving each other lightly, joking about sheets going out of style. She felt warm, and safe in the knowledge that even if it'd been awhile, she'd always have her cousins.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I really hope you liked it. Now go validate me in the comments, if you're so inclined.


End file.
